Shot Down in Flames
by apples4amanda
Summary: Living in a small town in Louisiana, Amber's life was pretty quiet... up until the night of her best friend's murder. With the police claiming it was just an animal attack, Amber knows that it's up to her alone to take down her friend's killer. But when two enigmatic young men show up at her door, she discovers maybe she's not alone after all.


Shot Down in Flames

Winnifield, LA

A scream pierced the night.

Amber's eyes shot open, heart pounding in her chest. It was just past 2:00am and she'd barely fallen asleep when she heard it. She froze, praying it had just been a figment of her imagination or a cat fight in the alley. She waited, counting long seconds of silence. Just when she was about to relax, there was a loud thud followed by several shrieks of terror.

Amber shot up and fumbled for the crowbar she kept by her bed. The house she shared with her friend Scarlett was nice, but not in the best of neighborhoods, and right now she felt validated in her paranoia. Amber slowly opened her bedroom door. The shrieking had stopped, but she could still hear the sounds of a struggle coming from down the hall. _Scarlett's room._

She could see the door was slightly ajar. Amber crept forward, brandishing the crowbar in front of her. The sounds from the room continued, and as she got closer, Amber was able to see Scarlett's legs on the floor, covered in blood. With a sudden rush of adrenaline, Amber kicked open the door, ready to bash in the head of Scarlett's assailant. But when she saw the form hunched over Scarlett's body, she froze.

"Ryan?" she gasped.

The hulking figure, which had been neck deep in Scarlett's abdomen, her innards now strewn across the floor, paused in its actions, stood, and turned toward Amber. The clothes were Ryan's, as were the hair and stature, but the face was changed. Covered in blood with mottled features and a look of pure rage, whatever this thing was bore little resemblance to Scarlett's boyfriend.

With lightning speed the monster charged at Amber, bloodlust in its eyes. Reacting quickly, Amber swung the crowbar with all her might straight at the creature's temple. Years of heavy lifting working at the local hardware store paid off, and the monster slammed into the wall, crumpling to the ground. Amber's arms rang from the impact. Not stopping to see whether it was still conscious, she ran back to her room, locking the door and pushing the heavy wardrobe in front as a barricade. She grabbed her cellphone and dialed 911 with shaking fingers.

_"911 what is your emergency?"  
_  
BANG! The wardrobe shuddered with the transferred impact. The whole wall shook as the monster threw itself at the door with herculean force.

"There's something in my house! Please help me!" Amber cried, trembling with fear as the wardrobe continued to shake.

_"Ma'am, please give me your name and address and I'll dispatch police immediately."_

"My name is Amber Roberts. I live at 1112 North Waller St. Oh god it killed Scarlett and now it's coming for me!" The walls still shook, pounded by incredible force.

_"The police are on their way. Can you get to somewhere safe?"_

"I'm in my room but it's trying to break down the door!" Another violent thud shook the wall, and Amber backed into the corner, clutching the crowbar even tighter.

_"Do you have a closet or bathroom that you can hide in?"_

"No, there's nothing. I barricaded the door but I don't think it's going to hold him." The sound of splintering wood accompanied another crash. "Oh god please tell them to hurry!"

Just as she spoke, Amber heard the sirens approaching. Suddenly, the battering stop and in the silence, Amber thought she heard the sound of glass breaking.

_"Ma'am…? Amber? Amber are you still there?"  
_  
"Y-yes, I'm here. He… he stopped. I think he heard the sirens and he ran away."

_"Ok Amber, stay where you are. The police are on the scene and they will come and find you. I'm going to hang up now. You're in good hands."  
_  
"Ok…" dazed from the adrenaline rush, Amber sank to the floor, crowbar still held in a white-knuckled death grip.

Amber sat there shaking for what felt like eternity. She barely registered the sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs, when suddenly more banging on the door shocked her back into herself.

"Ma'am, it's the police. Are you alright in there? Can you open the door for us?"

"Yes…" she croaked, barely above a whisper, her throat having gone bone dry. She swallowed and tried again. "Yes! Hang on."

Amber shakily got to her feet. It took every last ounce of energy she had to push the wardrobe out of the way, and when she finished she was trembling with the effort. She saw the center of her bedroom door had a large split running down the middle, and the frame by the doorknob had begun to crack. Thankfully, the house was old, with solid oak doors. That fact alone had probably saved her life. She opened the door to find two policemen standing there. Beyond them she could see more down the hall, examining the carnage in Scarlett's room.

_Oh god… Scarlett.  
_  
The reality hit Amber like a punch to the stomach. She pushed past the cops, leaned against the wall, and threw up.

Hours later, Amber sat, knees drawn up to her chest on the couch in her brother's living room. The cops had wrapped her in blankets and ferried her off to the station to get her statement. After a frustrating series of questions highlighted by pitying, skeptical looks from the detectives, they had sent her home with her brother, deeming her too emotionally unstable to alone.

"Emotionally unstable my ass," Amber muttered.

While she wasn't grudging having to stay with her brother – in truth she really didn't want to be alone anyway – the skepticism of the police had infuriated her. The coroner had taken one look at the body and the broken window and labeled it an animal attack. They found no evidence of another human at the scene besides Amber. Traces of blood that didn't belong to the victim were found trailing from Scarlett's room to outside Amber's door, but the CSI's determined it to be not human.

_Well of course, _Amber thought. _Whatever that… Ryan… was, it couldn't have been human. And an animal attack? What if it… no, it couldn't be.  
_  
No matter how much she insisted she knew what she saw – she had, after all, landed it a hefty blow with her crowbar – the police didn't believe her. They just saw a pale, devastated girl, shaking with fear, and wrote it off as post-traumatic stress. As for Ryan… While the police still hadn't succeeded in locating him, the coroner had affirmed there was no way a man could have mangled Scarlett's body that way: her spinal column had been _bitten_ clean through.

Two days later, a second victim was found, same M.O. as Scarlett. The victim was mauled, torn up, and… eaten. This time, though, there were no witnesses. Even with that news, Amber went back to her house that night, much against her brother's wishes. The crime scene had been cleared though, and she insisted she was fine. Only after making her promise that she wouldn't go out alone at night, and that she'd carry their father's old hunting knife on her everywhere, did he let her go. In all honesty, Amber actually did feel safer staying with her brother. Her real reason for leaving was that she didn't want him to find out what she'd been researching and send her off to the loony bin.

The night of the murder, Amber hadn't been able to sleep. She lay awake all night going over and over what she had seen: the hunched but distinctly human figure, Ryan's face, only terribly different, and those horrible, bloodthirsty eyes. Such a stark transition from the Ryan she had just seen earlier that evening. He had seemed normal, if a little distracted. He had devoured his dinner like a half-starved wolf, staring at Scarlett lustily while he ate. But he was a 25 year-old guy; that wasn't that far from normal.

Still, Amber was certain the thing she had seen was Ryan. He had been spending the night there, but must have broken out the window in his escape. It was insane, Amber knew, but somehow it was real. Even though he still hadn't been found, the cops didn't suspect him as the second victim had no connection. Knowing the police would be no help, Amber had set out to do her own research, trying to put together clues to figure out what had made Ryan flip out like that. And once she started looking, the things she found left her shocked.

Apparently, these weren't the first cases like this in the Northern Louisiana area. She found articles on reports dating back to the early 1900's, all similar deaths, all labeled as animal attacks. There were probably more from earlier, but poor record keeping made them impossible to find. The strange thing was the pattern: there would always be about half a dozen victims and then no incidents for about 20 or 30 years. With that evidence driving her, Amber dove deeper, searching for an answer. What she found could only label her as insane.

Back in her own home, with the doors and windows reinforced with plywood and her trusty crowbar by her side, Amber absorbed herself in finding Scarlett's murderer.

The third day after the attack, there was a knock on Amber's door. Looking through the peephole, she saw two serious looking men in suits. Judging that they didn't look like they'd try to eat her, she opened the door.

"Can I help you?" she asked. The tall one continued to look stern, but the shorter one almost seemed to smirk when he saw her.

"Amber Roberts?"

"Yes…?"

"I'm Agent Bonham and this is Agent Plant," he said, indicating the taller man as they flashed their badges. "We're with the FBI. We'd like to ask you a few questions about the attack."

Amber paused, staring at them dubiously. If the police just thought she was crazy, why on earth would the FBI want to talk to her?

Seeing the disbelieving look on her face, the tall man spoke up. "We understand you've already been through this with the police. But please, we'd like to hear what you have to say." He smiled. Very charming, this one. The shorter man nodded in agreement sternly, although Amber could have sworn she saw him checking her out from the corner of her eye a second ago.

"Alright…" Amber said skeptically. "Can you just give me a minute, though? I need to clean up." Before they could respond, Amber slammed the door and ran back to the living room. Books on Native American folklore and news clippings of past attacks were strewn all over her coffee table. She quickly gathered all of it up and shoved it in a closet. Taking a moment to breath, she walked back to the front door and let the agents in. Amber briefly considered offering them a drink, but decided against it on the grounds that she wanted them out of her house as quickly as possible.

Seated in her living room and upon closer inspection, these men didn't look like FBI agents. They seemed too young, yet at the same time too worn around the edges. Their suits were nice, but looked like they had been stuffed in a bag instead of properly hung in a closet. And there was something off about the way they sat – too casual for how she imagined FBI agents would sit. Yes, something was definitely off about these two…

"So, agents, if you don't mind me asking, why is the FBI interested in this incident?" Amber probed. "I understand the police say it was just an animal attack."

The shorter man leaned in, staring at her inquisitively.

"Do _you _think it was an animal attack?" From this distance, Amber could see that he had striking hazel-colored eyes. His hair was short, brown, and spiky - definitely not suited to an FBI agent.

She returned his gaze, trying to figure out his game. Were they actually prepared to believe her? Furthermore, was she willing to risk getting institutionalized if they didn't? _You know what, _she thought, _screw it._

"No," she said, giving them a level look, "I don't. I know what I saw, and it was definitely not an animal." They seemed to perk up when she said this. They glanced at each other, communicating silently. The tall one leaned in.

"Could you describe for us _exactly_ what it was you saw that night?"

Amber leaned back, looking the men over with scrutiny. No, these guys were definitely not FBI. The question was, who were they? She realized they were staring back at her expectantly, the tall one putting on his best sympathetic face, while the shorter one just looked smug.

"Ok," Amber said, leaning forward assertively, "But I'm not saying another word until you guys tell me what's really going on here."

Their faces changed instantly, and the shorter one turned to glare at his partner before turning back to Amber.

"Miss Roberts, you know we can arrest you for withholding evidence in this case?" he said gruffly.

"And I'm pretty sure I could get you arrested for impersonating a federal officer." Amber grinned with confidence as the shorter man's face turned to a scowl. He looked like he was about to retort when the tall one stopped him.

"Dean," he said, "We should just tell her."

Dean turned on him. "Do you remember what happened the last time we tried to "inform" someone about one of these things? She spooked and ran and now there's another one out there someone'll have to hunt down in 20 years," he said in a huff.

Amber stared at them incredulously.

"Who the hell are you?" she said, completely confused by this response, "And what do you mean by "one of these things"?"

The tall one gave Dean a look that said "lock it up", and turned back to Amber.

"My name is Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean," he said carefully, "and we believe your friend was murdered…"

"By a rugaru," Dean interrupted.

Amber stared at them, eyes wide, as they sat there, waiting for her to ask what a "rugaru" was. Instead, she said nothing, but got up and went to the closet. She came back with one of the books on Native American folklore, flipped it open to a marked page, and set it on the table in front of Sam and Dean.

Sam picked up the book and looked at the passage.

"Rugaru legend has been found among many of the Native American tribes," he read, "particularly in the area of the southern states. According to the stories, rugaru walk among humans unnoticed for much of their lives, before suddenly transforming into cannibalistic monsters with superhuman strength." Sam looked up from the book at Amber in disbelief.

"So you mean to tell me that you already know what this thing is?" Dean asked in amazement.

"I wasn't sure until you just confirmed it for me," Amber said, sitting back down on the couch. "They gave me time off from work after the attack, so I've been researching non-stop since then."

"Looks like we found you a kindred spirit, eh Sammy?" Dean joked. Sam ignored him and continued.

"Will you tell us now, then?" he asked gently. "What exactly happened?"

Amber took a deep breath. It was such a relief to finally have someone believe her, but to recount it…? That wasn't going to be easy.

"It was awful," she said. "It all happened so fast, but it's burned into my memory."

"I know it's hard, but the more you can tell us, the more we can help," Sam said.

Amber nodded. "It was close to 2:00am when I heard Scarlett scream. It woke me up and I went to investigate. I keep a big crowbar in my room as a weapon, so I took that with me for protection. When I got to her room I saw… Oh god…" Amber choked and looked down at her hands.

"It's ok," Sam said, reaching across to put a hand on her shoulder. "What did you see?"

"Scarlett… she… she was already dead. There was blood everywhere and this… THING was hunched over her _eating_ her." Amber looked up at the brothers, tears welling in her eyes and anger rising in her voice.

"These things aren't supposed to be real!" she cried. "I almost couldn't believe what I was seeing, and then he turned around and… UGHHH!" She slammed her fist on the table. "It was Ryan. Scarlett's boyfriend. He… his face was different, but I knew it was him. That BASTARD. He came at me and I swung and hit him in the head hard enough to knock him down, then I ran. I barricaded myself in my room but he kept coming after me. He almost broke down the door. I called the cops, but then he ran away when he heard the sirens." Amber shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "How could he do that to her? I am going to find him, and I am going to kill him for this!" Shaking with anger, Amber sat back and put her head in her hands.

Dean, who had been listening with quiet concern, suddenly broke into a grin.

"You're telling me you took a swing at this thing and not only knocked it down but lived to tell the tale? Hell, last time we ran into one it kicked my ass!" Dean laughed. "Safe to say, I'm impressed. You must have one hell of an arm on you!"

Amber managed to crack a smile.

"Yeah, well working at a hardware store and moving 100lbs bags of cement every day probably helps," she responded dryly.

"Amber…" Sam said gently, "Rugarus don't have control over what they're doing. Most of them don't even have any idea they're not human until the monster side takes over. And then… they just lose it. They're overcome by this insatiable desire for human flesh they can't possibly resist, and they just go for the nearest person the can find, no matter how much they once meant to them. In a way, they really are animals."

"So, what? You're saying I shouldn't kill him just because he had no control?"

"No Amber," Dean said, all seriousness returned. "We're going to kill it. This thing is powerful and running wild. It'll hurt a lot more people unless we can put him down."

"Ok then," Amber said, satisfied. "How do we kill it?"

Dean looked her straight in the eye.

"We're going to burn it alive."

When Sam finished explaining that the rugaru couldn't be killed by normal weapons, Amber was silent. Without saying a word, she got up and went into the kitchen. Leaning against the wall for a moment, she just stood there, trying to regulate her breathing.

From where she stood, she could hear snippets of the Winchesters talking in gruff, hushed voices.

_"Use her? More like get her killed…"_

_ "She's obviously not helpless if…"_

_ "Sam, this thing is running wild. I don't want to go throwing anyone right into its grasp!"_

Having heard enough, Amber grabbed three beers from the fridge and went back into the living room. As she approached, the brothers went silent. She handed them the beers – Sam thanked her, but Dean just smiled and gave her a slight wink.

Amber sat, taking a good long swig of her beer. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dean do the same, while Sam just held his. Once she finished, she set her beer down on the table and gave the brothers a hard look.

"So what I understand," she said, eyes narrowed, "is that you need my help finding this thing." She wondered exactly how they might broach the subject of using her has bait.

"Yes," Sam spoke carefully, "We think you might be able to help us figure out where this thing is hiding…"

"And it already has your scent so Sammy here'd like to use you as bait." Dean finished, looking smug, having successfully thrown his brother under the bus. Sam tensed, as though waiting for Amber to explode. In truth, Amber was trying her best not to laugh. _These two really are brothers, _she thought. She looked at them a moment while she made up her mind, Sam looking worried while Dean just looked cocky in comparison.

"Ok," she said casually. Both brothers' eyebrows shot up, having not anticipated this reaction.

"Amber, are you sure?" Dean asked. "These things are crazy strong, especially after they've fed this much. And they can bite through a femur like it's a Snickers. You saw what it did to your friend…"

"Yes, and that's exactly why I want this thing dead," Amber snapped. "Look, before you two showed up I was planning on going after this thing alone. And since I had no idea you had to roast them, I would have gotten myself killed in the process anyway."

"But what about your family?" he pressed. "How do you think they'll feel if you run off and get yourself killed?"

Amber looked down at her hands.

"It's just me and my brother," she said quietly. "Our parents died when I was little – about 20 years ago."

A look of realization crossed Sam's face.

"Amber…" he leaned in, "How did your parents die?"

"They had gone camping for their anniversary," she said, voice cracking. "The police said it was a…" Amber trailed off, on the verge of hyperventilation. This time it was Dean who moved to put a hand on her shoulder. After a moment, she calmed her breathing and looked up at them.

"They said it was a gator attack." Her tone was flat, but anger filled her eyes. "You have to let me help you kill this thing. I know it was a rugaru that took my parents, and now one's taken my best friend."

"Dean, I really think she could…"

"Ok," Dean stopped him. "She can help."

"Alright then," Amber said, satisfied. "What's the plan?"

"Minimal contact," Sam replied. "These things are incredibly strong, so it's best to try and stay away from them. The idea is we lure it to an area ringed with explosives and blow it to hell. We need to get supplies first, though."

"What do we need?"

"Propane tanks, gasoline, wiring… A bunch of stuff that'll go boom," Dean said, the smile returning to his face.

"The hardware store has all of that stuff. It's closed on Sundays, but I have a key to let us in." Amber rose to her feet. "Let's go."

"No." Sam stopped her. "You should stay here. It's safer for now."

"Like hell I am!"

Sam looked to Dean, exasperated.

"Eh… come on, Sammy. I was just going to have to stay and stake out the house anyway." He smiled at Amber. "We might as well have all three along for the ride."

Amber smiled back at him. She was beginning to like this Dean character.

"One more thing, though," Dean paused. "Can we change out of these suits first? This collar's starting to chafe."

Having changed in to Carhart's and jeans, the Winchesters and Amber headed out the door.

What Amber saw parked outside her house made her stop in her tracks. The smooth black body, black and tan leather interior, and beautiful chrome details made her mouth drop.

"_This_ is your car?" she exclaimed.

"Yep!" Dean said with pride. "This is my baby."

"A '67 Chevy Impala!" they said at the same time.

Now it was Dean's mouth that dropped. His eyes were glued to Amber as she walked up to the car and ran her hands over the frame.

"I haven't seen one of these in years!" she said wistfully.

"So you're an Impala fan then?" Dean asked, visibly impressed.

"My dad used to have one." Amber continued her inspection, misty eyed. "It was his baby. I was only four when he died, but I remember he would take me on rides in it every now and then. After they died we kept it as long as we could, but eventually my brother had to sell it to pay for school."

Dean smiled at her.

"This was our dad's car. Once I could drive, he gave it to me and I've kept her running ever since. This baby's saved our lives more than once." He patted the hood affectionately. "Hop in!"

Amber slid into the back seat, tenderly running her hands over the upholstery. It even smelled like her dad's car, but with an added hint of cheeseburgers and… something else. Something slightly acrid and smoky. Sam got into the front seat as Dean started the car. The familiar rumble of the engine made Amber smile. She caught Dean's eyes looking at her through the rearview mirror and turned away shyly. Something about the way he looked at her was starting to give her butterflies in her stomach.

"Where is the hardware store from here?" Sam asked. By this point, Amber was developing the distinct impression that he was the practical one.

"Go straight and take the second right, then it's three blocks down on the left. You can't miss it." Amber sat back as Dean launched the Impala into the street. The car ran like a dream, with no knocking or jumps in the engine. _Dean must really care about it to keep it running this well,_ she thought. As they drove, her thoughts turned to memories of riding with her dad, sitting in the front seat, barely able to see over the dashboard. Sometimes he'd take them to an empty parking lot and let her sit in his lap and steer. It was one of her favorite memories of him.

"Amber?"

She perked up, realizing suddenly that Sam had asked her a question.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if you could think of any places that Ryan might go to hide. Rugaru are nocturnal so it would need someplace to sleep during the day."

She thought for a moment. "Ryan has an apartment downtown, but I think people would have noticed a wild monster lurking around there… He did work at the steel refinery, though. There are a bunch of old empty warehouses in that area."

"The second victim was found near some warehouses," Dean put in. "Sounds like we know it's hiding space."

"Great. So what's the next step?" she asked.

"After we get the stuff we'll go back to your place to rig the explosives. Don't worry, we won't blow up your house. We've done this before," he added, seeing the apprehensive look on her face. "Then tomorrow we'll go case the joint and figure out where we need to set up."

"But what if it kills someone again tonight?"

"Rugaru don't need to feed every night," Sam interjected. "And there uh… there wasn't much left of the second victim, so the town's probably safe."

"You saw the bodies?" Amber asked, surprised.

Dean laughed. "Yeah, not everyone catches on to our FBI ploy as easily as you did." He pulled into the parking lot.

"Roberts' Hardware Emporium," he read. "Hey, isn't that your last name?"

"Yeah, this place was my dad's. My brother runs it now," she said, getting out of the car. "He was only nine when they died, but a friend of our dad's ran the store until he was of age. He's owned it ever since." She unlocked the front door, Dean's coat brushing her arm as he walked in past her. He smelled good, she noticed, like leather and Old Spice. _Dammit… Butterflies again. _She shook it off and walked in behind them.

"Wiring's on aisle four, and pipes are on seven. We keep the propane out back, but I have to go get the key to unlock the case from the office." Amber pointed them in the right directions and headed behind the counter. She paused, eyeing the rifle her brother kept beneath the register. Hardware stores didn't get robbed often, but her brother wasn't one to take chances. She considered grabbing it, but in the end moved on. _Not like that'll help much against a rugaru anyway,_ she thought. Grabbing the keys from their hook in the office, she rounded the corner and suddenly found herself face to face with Dean.

"Jesus!" She jumped. Her stomach did a flip, both from the surprise and suddenly being so close to him.

"Sorry…" he mumbled, then cleared his throat and took a step back. "I uhh… I just came to ask you where the doorbells are."

"Aisle two," she said, regaining her composure. "Right next to the screwdrivers." Amber paused. "What do you need a doorbell for?"

"Trigger button!" Dean yelled back as he walked away. Amber watched him go for a moment before feeling the weight of the keys in her hand and remembering her original purpose.

Once out behind the store, she suddenly had the feeling that something was watching her. It was only just past 5:00pm and still light out, but that didn't stop the hairs on the back of her neck from standing up. She looked around and, seeing no one, went to unlock the propane case.

All of a sudden she felt a hand on her shoulder. She whirled around and was about to scream, but stifled it when she was who it was.

"Danny!?" Her brother's expression turned to one of concern when he saw the spooked look on her face.

"Amber, what are you doing here?" he asked. "It's going to be dark soon. You should be at home."

"I uhh…" Amber looked at the open propane case, trying to think up a lie. "I was going to a friend's barbeque. He asked me to pick up some propane because his grill is out."

"Uh huh…" her brother said skeptically. "Do I know this guy?"

"No he's new to t…"

"Hey Amber, do y…" Sam froze, seeing Danny. "Uhh…"

"This is… Jeff," Amber said, trying to think fast. "He's the one throwing the barbeque." She gave Sam a pleading look, silently begging him to play along. He seemed to get the message.

"Hey! Yeah," he said, putting on a smile. "I'm Jeff." He held out his hand to Danny, who shook it but glared at him suspiciously.

"Amber says you're new around here, huh?" he said, looking Sam over like he was a criminal.

"Yep! Just moved here a couple weeks back," Sam replied coolly, not a trace of a lie in his voice. _They must do this a lot,_ Amber thought.

"We're just throwing a little housewarming party to…"

"Hey Amber ohh…" Dean trailed off as he stepped out the back door. Amber groaned.

"Danny this is… Steve. _Jeff's_ brother," she said, giving Dean a death-stare. He smirked back at her, amused, before turning to Danny.

"Yep! That's me," he said. "Steve…"

"Anyway, what are you doing here?" Amber interrupted before Dean could spoil the ruse.

"What do you think I'm doing here, Amber?" Danny replied, looking at his sister like she had a screw loose. "It's Sunday. I always come on Sunday evenings to put the garbage bins out."

"Oh… right." In all the madness with the Winchesters showing up, Amber had completely forgotten that her brother might be here. "Well we'll just grab the propane and get out of your way!" she said, hurriedly ushering Sam and Dean back into the store. "I promise I'll be careful tonight!" She shut and locked the door, leaving Danny still scowling in the back alley.

"We can't leave yet," Sam said once inside. "We'll need at least two more tanks of propane for this."

"I know. We just need to stay in here until he leaves or he'll start asking questions."

Dean chuckled.

"What?" Amber snapped at him.

"You think I look like a Steve?" he said, bemused. She glared at him.

"Yeah, why did you make up fake names back there?" Sam asked. "I doubt it would have mattered if you used our real ones."

"I'm sorry! I panicked! I don't go around dressing up like federal agents in my spare time like you guys do!" Sam and Dean began to laugh at this. Her heart was still pounding – she didn't like to lie to her brother outright like this. But despite herself, Amber started to laugh too.

The gaiety lasted a couple minutes – Dean joking about how silly "Steve" and "Jeff" sounded together – until they heard her brother's truck start and pull away. Then it was back to business. They grabbed the remaining propane tanks and supplies and piled back into the Impala, getting home just as the sun began to set.

Back outside her house, they began to unload when Dean popped the trunk. The gleam of metal caught Amber's eye and she looked in and gasped.

The trunk held every weapon imaginable, and more. Guns, knives, stakes, and strange objects she didn't recognize: it was a full-on arsenal. Along with the weapons were large bags labeled "ROCK SALT" and "GUNPOWDER". _Well that explains the smell,_ Amber thought. She looked at Sam and Dean as though seeing them in a whole new light.

"You guys have a lot more explaining to do."

Once inside, the ingredients for homemade explosives laid out around her kitchen, Amber worked on getting them to talk. Finally, after a few beers, the story was flowing.

"Saving people, hunting things, it's kind of the family business," Sam said.

"Yeah," Dean huffed, "I'd kill just to have a hardware store."

"So werewolves, vampires, _demons_..."

"It's all real," Sam sighed.

"Full on Twilight, baby," Dean said with a wink.

"And all that stuff in the trunk…?"

"We've got weapons to kill things you've never even heard of," Dean said proudly. Amber just stared at them, wide-eyed.

"So you've been doing this your whole lives?" she asked.

Dean looked down at his beer, the proud cockiness suddenly gone.

"Our mom's family… they were all hunters. When she married our dad she tried to put that life behind her." He looked up at Amber, a pained look clouding his face. "It took ten years, but it caught up to her. Sam was just a baby when she was killed by a demon. That's when our dad began to hunt. He spent the rest of his life trying to find the thing that killed her, dragging us along in the process, and it ended up killing him." Dean took a final swig of his beer and leaned back against the counter, staring down at the floor.

"I'm so sorry," Amber said quietly.

"Yeah, well…" he muttered, "I guess you can kind of relate." He looked up at her, a look of sincerity in his eyes. Amber nodded solemnly.

"Were you ever able to kill it?"

"Oh yeah," Dean said, a fire burning in his expression. "We killed that son of a bitch, and he is _never_ coming back."

Unable to handle his intensity, Amber looked down at her hands, not knowing what to say. She knew she had faced tragedy in her life, but not even a percentage of what this man had seen. She was overcome by the urge to just wrap him in her arms and keep him safe from the world, but at the same time knew that would never be enough. The damage ran deep, and maybe there was no healing it, but she still wanted so badly to try.

Sam, who had been quiet throughout all of this, cleared his throat.

"It's getting late, guys. We should probably get to work," and with that, turned to the nearest propane tank.

Some hours later, Amber's kitchen looked like a war zone, homemade bombs and scraps of wire covering the counter. Having basically been an insomniac for the past few nights, Amber suddenly found she was exhausted. The Winchester's protective presence allowed her to feel relaxed for the first time in days, and the lack of sleep was finally catching up to her. She hadn't even realized she had started to nod off until Dean nudged her.

"You should go to sleep," he said gently.

"But…" Amber protested. Tired as she was, she didn't want to miss anything.

"We're almost done here," he stopped her. "Sam and I can finish up, and then we'll stay here tonight to make sure nothing happens." With that, he pulled Amber up from her chair and sent her upstairs.

She was out as soon as she hit her pillow. She slept like the dead, but awoke suddenly the next morning with a dry feeling in her mouth. She looked over at the clock – 9:15am. Everything that happened yesterday seemed like a dream: too strange to be true. But the smell of propane that still clung to her hair affirmed for her it was real. She got out of bed and shuffled to the door, intending to head to the bathroom for a glass of water. Instead, when she opened her door she got a surprise.

"Aagh!" She stifled a yell.

Dean was standing there, hand poised about to knock. They stared at each other for a moment in shocked silence, and then before Amber could even think about what she was doing, she had grabbed Dean by the collar, pulled him toward her, and kissed him. As her thoughts caught up to her actions, she realized that Dean was kissing her back. His arms wrapped around her waist as he pushed her backwards into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. _What am I doing?_ Amber thought briefly as she steered him toward the bed, pulling him down on top of her.

With a strange clarity, she realized she wasn't doing this out of lust or passion. While she couldn't deny the attraction, she just had a strong feeling that she wanted to give him something out of pure generosity, and the best thing she had was herself. The look in those clear hazel eyes gave her validation, and she pulled him closer. Dean's hips pressed into hers and she felt his yearning, arching her back in response. She ran her fingers through his hair, noting how soft it was despite its spiky appearance. He let out a little moan of pleasure at this, and began working his way down her neck.

"Dean?" Sam called up the stairs.

They shot apart as though electrocuted. Standing on opposite sides of the bed and breathing heavy, Dean gave Amber a wistful look.

"Dammit Sammy…" he muttered, and before Amber could say anything, he was out the door.

"What, Sam?" she heard him yell as he stomped down the stairs, frustration edging his voice.

Amber sat down on the bed, heart still pounding. She didn't regret what she had done yet, but she had a feeling that might change when she went downstairs and had to face them. She took her time getting dressed, trying to postpone the confrontation.

She ran into Sam at the bottom of the stairs, and he gave her a funny look. _Oh god, he knows. How could he already know? _Amber panicked.

"Um… your shirt's on inside-out…" he laughed, and continued on his way into the kitchen. Amber looked down. Sure enough, her shirt was inside-out, and somehow backwards too, the tag sticking awkwardly out in front. She ducked quickly into the bathroom to fix it before following Sam into the kitchen.

Dean was already in there, going over the supplies. He looked up when Amber walked into the room, but no hint of their brief encounter showed on his face.

"Morning," he said casually, and went back to his work.

"Hey Amber, I need you to go over some maps with me," Sam said, opening up his laptop and pulling up satellite images of the city.

"Sure…" Amber paused, having a thought. "How did you get onto my wi-fi?"

"Ah…" Sam looked sheepish. "I um… I hacked your password. Sorry." Amber shrugged. With the Winchesters, the intrigue never seemed to end.

"Anyway," Sam continued, "I pulled up these images of the warehouse district." He pointed to the screen. "The second victim was a security guard for the complex. He was found here. The coroner said he died around 3:00am, but wasn't found until 5:00am when the next shift came to replace him." He zoomed out. "I was wondering if you could point out which of these buildings were no longer in use."

Amber looked at the screen carefully, when an idea popped into her head. "All of these warehouses are pretty new and still occupied. The hardware store makes deliveries to them occasionally. But…" She adjusted the image to focus on a wooded area just to the north. "There are some older, abandoned buildings right up here. The tree cover makes them hard to see on the map, and they're very secluded. Perfect place for a cannibal to hide out."

"Alright then," Sam said, closing the computer. "Looks like we know where we're going!"

After a quick breakfast, they loaded up the Impala and headed out. The warehouses were about 20 minutes out of town, and they rode in silence until Dean popped a Zeppelin cassette into the tape deck. Amber laughed, amused by the fact that Dean kept such an outdated audio system in the car. She stopped when she caught Dean's eye in the mirror, her ears turning red. He had been completely cool toward her all morning – almost too cool. Amber worried that he might be upset, but at the same time he didn't quite give that impression. _These boys are a difficult book to read_, she thought. She sat watching the scenery go by for the rest of the ride, carefully avoiding the rearview mirror. If Dean could act like nothing happened, then so could she.

They pulled onto an old dirt road, heavily lined with trees. It was lucky that this area wasn't near any swampland, or else they'd have to deal with gators along with a wild rugaru. She said as much, which made Sam laugh. Dean stayed quiet, but she thought she saw a hint of a smile in the mirror.

As they neared the warehouse, Dean put the car into neutral and pulled over, not wanting to risk being heard if they drove too close. They got out and Dean popped the trunk.

"Can you handle a sawn-off?" he asked her. Amber looked at the gun in question: clearly worn in but well taken care of.

"I'm more used to a rifle, but yeah, I think I can manage," she replied. "I thought guns couldn't kill these things though?"

"A shotgun round won't kill it," Dean said, handing her the weapon, "But it'll slow it down even better than a crowbar." He smiled at her, the first real one she'd seen all morning. Dean picked up a couple small, homemade flamethrowers and handed one to Sam, also grabbing two large, serrated knives before shutting the trunk.

"Stay between me and Sam. These things are supposed to sleep during the day, but in the chance that it hears us, it won't shy away from a fight. If you see it, don't hesitate to shoot."

Amber nodded grimly. Ryan had once been a good friend of hers, but knowing what she now knew, she wouldn't think twice about killing him. Besides, this thing wasn't really Ryan anymore anyway.

They crept silently up to the warehouse. The building was run down and rusty, the windows on the side only holding broken shards of glass. As they got closer, Amber realized what she had thought were dark patches of rust on the door were actually smears of dried blood.

"I guess we've got the right place," she whispered, pointing it out to the boys.

"Yeah, good call." Dean edged toward the door, setting down each step carefully so as not to make a sound. His back against the wall, he signaled for Sam and Amber to stay back. Cautiously, Dean peered around the doorway. After a long look, he made his way back to the others.

"Alright," he said in a low voice. "I didn't see anything in the main room, but there's an office cornered off toward the back. It's dark inside, but I was able to make out blood on the floor trailing back there, so it looks like that's where he's holed up."

A wave of nausea suddenly swept over Amber. Being this close to the thing that killed her friend made her feel sick and filled with rage at the same time. She felt the blood draining from her head and started to sway on her feet. The look on her face must have caught Dean's attention, because he grasped her firmly by the shoulders and turned her to face him.

"Hey, look at me," he said, quiet but intense, their faces inches away. "I need you to stay solid here, ok?"

Amber tried to just look at the ground, but he grabbed her by the chin and lifted her face level with his. She met his gaze. _Oh those eyes…_

"Can you do that for me?" His grip was still firm on her shoulders, the only thing holding her up at the moment. Amber nodded weakly. Being so close to him again was making her stomach do flips, but at least the nausea was beginning to pass. Dean smiled, which steadied her even more.

"That's my girl," he said, and patted her on the cheek. Amber glared at him but he ignored it, turning to Sam as they started back toward the Impala.

"We can set up a perimeter around the entrance with the explosives. Then we wait until dark, and when this thing comes out we blow it to hell."

"Why don't we just torch the whole building while it's inside?" Amber asked.

Sam shook his head. "No, too risky. There'd still be a chance that it could escape, and all we'd have done is piss it off. Besides, we don't want to set the whole forest on fire. That'd draw a little too much attention for our liking." He turned back to Dean.

"Now, what about the contingency plan?" He glanced back at Amber. Dean grimaced, clearly hoping it wouldn't have to come to that.

"Sam, she doesn't have to do it…"

"Dean, come on," Sam interrupted, his voice still hushed but clearly frustrated. "She's our best shot. He'll go straight for her and then we can rope him while he's distracted. Yeah, it's risky, but she'll be fine. We'll be the ones in the most danger anyway."

Dean glared at Sam then turned to Amber.

"You ok with this?"

Amber shrugged. "Like Sam said, if the explosives don't work it's our best shot," she replied grimly. "I'll get his attention, give him a good hit with the shotgun, and then you guys tie him up. Sweet and simple."

Dean shook his head. "Not so easy when you have an angry rugaru running straight at you."

"Give me some credit – I've done it before." She elbowed Dean in the side. He grunted, but smiled.

"Well alright then," he grinned. "Let's bag ourselves a monster."

They carefully unloaded the explosives from the Impala, placing them as silently as possible in front of the entrance to the warehouse. Amber stood guard – shotgun trained on the doorway incase the rugaru showed its face – while Sam and Dean connected the tanks to the detonators. Once finished, Sam trailed the trigger wire off to the chosen spot just beyond the tree line. With still a few hours to kill, they settled into their lookout spot to wait. Dean, who had disappeared briefly, came back from the Impala carrying a small cooler. He set it down and pulled out a few beers, handing one to Sam and Amber. She smiled. _That explains how they can handle doing this all the time,_ she thought. She was calm for the most part, but her nerves were a little frayed around the edges. The beer was helping to sooth them, though.

They sat in silence for a long time, someone always keeping an eye on the doorway. At one point, Sam got up to take a piss, leaving Dean and Amber momentarily alone. Dean took the opportunity and moved to sit next to her.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"What for?" Amber looked at him quizzically. "If I recall correctly, it was me who jumped you this morning."

Dean smiled. "No… Not that. That's pretty much the one thing I'm not sorry for."

"What then?" she asked, reaching up to pull a leaf from his hair. He flinched, but didn't shy away from her touch.

"For dragging you into all this," he said, trying not to meet her eyes. "I know what killing this thing means to you, but…" He trailed off, turning to look at her. She saw all the pain and suffering that he had been through written on his face, and noticed that he'd started to tear up.

"Amber, I've seen way too many people die doing this. I've lost everyone I've ever loved – even Sam. I've had to fight to bring him back more times than I can count. Anyone who ever gets close to us always ends up getting hurt. That's why I didn't want you to get involved. Because no matter how hard we try, we can't always save everyone." Dean turned away and cleared his throat. Amber gently placed her hands on his cheeks and turned him back to her. She gave him a soft kiss on the lips.

"Dean, it was my choice to be here. You would have had to tie me up to keep me from coming along."

"Yeah well maybe I should have…" He began to lean toward her, his hand on her knee.

Suddenly they heard Sam coming back from his bathroom break and sprang apart.

"Dammit, Sammy…" Amber muttered, causing Dean to chuckle.

"What?" Sam said as he appeared through the trees.

"Nothing…" Amber could feel her cheeks were red. As disappointing as it was to be interrupted, it was probably for the best that Sam was there; she could get so lost in Dean's eyes that she wouldn't have even noticed the rugaru until it took a bite out of her.

Sam sat back down, careful not to disturb the trigger button by his feet. "See anything?" he asked, eyeing them dubiously.

"Still as a graveyard, Sammy." Dean looked up at the sky. "Sun's going down soon, though. We had better get ready."

Amber stood, grabbing the shotgun from where she had set it down. She stared at the entrance to the warehouse. The small clearing they had picked as their hiding spot was over fifty yards away, but the gaping black hole of the doorway still looked like an endless abyss that would swallow her up. Her stomach dropped, and she shuddered as though someone had slipped a piece of ice down the back of her shirt. She felt a presence behind her and turned to see Dean hovering just inches away. Standing this close, she realized he really was quite a bit taller than her. She looked over at Sam – no wonder she had thought Dean was short in comparison. Next to her 5'8, Dean had to be at least five inches taller, but Sam still towered over them both in comparison. She giggled slightly, and that, combined with Dean's close presence, helped her peace of mind return.

As they took their positions, Amber ran over the plan again in her head. As soon as they saw the rugaru come out, Sam would trigger the explosives and blow the thing to hell. If for some reason that didn't work – a misfire or the explosion somehow not killing it – she was to run out, get its attention, shoot it, and stand back as Sam and Dean roped and roasted the thing.

The grim satisfaction of knowing revenge was near was starting to sink in, and she felt her heart beat faster in anticipation. She adjusted her grip on the shotgun, its weight a comfort in her hands. They stood there in silence as the sun went down, three sets of eyes trained on the warehouse door.

"AMBER!" The shout broke through the quiet stillness, shattering Amber's calm.

"Oh fuck," she muttered, as she spotted Danny walking toward the building. He was about 20 yards from the entrance – just outside the blast zone.

"Amber, wait!" Dean barked, trying to grab her, but she was already off and running.

She sprinted toward her brother. "Danny, run!" she yelled. She grabbed him by the arm and tried to pull him back toward the tree line, but he wouldn't budge.

"Amber, what the hell is going on?" he said, turning her to face him. "I've been trying to call you all afternoon! I had to trace the GPS on your phone! What the hell are you doing out here?"

"There's no time to explain!" she said frantically, still trying to pull him away. "We have to…"

Suddenly she heard it – a low growl coming from the entrance of the warehouse. Danny heard it too and turned, moving Amber behind him. They heard pounding footsteps approaching, and Danny turned to see Sam and Dean running toward them, flamethrowers in hand.

"You?" Danny said, surprised.

"Come on, bud, we gotta move!" Dean reached to grab him, but Danny quickly stepped out of the way, his back to the warehouse.

"Hell no, man. We're not going anywhere until someone explains to me what the fuck is going…"

"Danny NO!" Amber screamed. The rugaru had appeared in the doorway, dried blood smeared across his face and clothes. Danny turned.

"Ryan…?"

With lightning speed, the rugaru was on top of him. Amber fumbled with the rifle, but couldn't get a clear shot without hitting Danny. Moving fast, Sam and Dean threw themselves at the rugaru, fighting to restrain it. Sam caught it a full-force punch to the jaw, but the monster barely flinched. It swung at him, hitting Sam across the chest and launching him into the air. Amber heard a sickening thud as his head hit the ground, and he lay there not moving. Danny had fallen after the rugaru attacked him, blood spreading across the front of his shirt. She ran to him as Dean struggled, grappling with the monster. She looked up just in time to see it break free from Dean's hold and land a fierce blow to the side of his head. Dean crumpled to the ground.

"Nooo!"

Amber grabbed the rifle and fired off a shot, catching the thing in the shoulder. It roared in pain but remained standing. Rage suddenly overcame her and she lost it. She stood, wielding the shotgun like a club, and charged at the rugaru, smashing it in the face with the hardwood butt of the gun. It faltered, stumbling. Praying she had bought herself enough time, she bent to pick up Dean's flamethrower. Without warning, it was on top of her. Amber struggled to push it away, kicking and punching with all her might, but it was too strong. Grabbing her by the hair, it smashed her head against the ground and her world went black.

She wasn't out long, her vision clearing just in time to see the monster dragging her brother's motionless body into the warehouse. Amber shakily got to her feet, out of the corner of her eye seeing Sam and Dean begin to stir. Jaw set in grim determination, she grabbed the shotgun and followed the rugaru into darkness.

Dean came to just in time to see Amber disappear through the doorway. He heard Sam groan, and they staggered to their feet, heads pounding. As soon as he was steady, Dean began to run as fast as he could toward the warehouse, hoping to get there in time, while Sam raced back to where he had left the trigger.

Suddenly, a shot rang through the night, and the rugaru stumbled backward out the door, right into the perimeter.

"Dean, get down!" he heard Sam shout. He thought he caught a brief glimpse of a blood-covered Amber just beyond the doorway before he hit the dirt.

There was a deafening boom, and he held still covering his head as bits of flaming debris pounded his back. When he looked up, he saw the blast zone had been much larger than they'd intended. The front of the warehouse had a large hole blasted through it, and everything was on fire. What was left of the rugaru lay in smoking piles strewn about the wreckage.

"No…" Dean sprang up and ran towards the flaming opening. "Amber!"

Sam came running up behind him and grabbed him, trying to steer him back toward the Impala.

"Dean, we gotta go!" he said, struggling to restrain him. "The building's going to collapse!"

Dean could see that as well, but he didn't care. The warehouse was old, probably built during WWII, and while the siding was corrugated metal, the frame and roof were made of wood. He could hear the building creak and groan as the flames ate their way through it.

"Sam, I can't," he said. "If there's even a chance she's alive…" He broke free from Sam's hold and ran though the entrance, the flames roaring up behind him. Inside, it was hot and smoky, but the fire gave off enough light to see by.

"Amber!" he called out.

A flaming piece of debris crashed down next to him, and he rolled out of the way, avoiding the sparks it sent flying. Taking in his surroundings, he saw a pair of legs through the smoke and scrambled to remove the debris from on top of them.

"Damn…" He groaned as he cleared off the body. It was Danny: eyes clouded over and throat ripped out. There was no saving him. Dean stood, searching desperately for any other sign of life.

"Amber!" he called out again. He thought he heard someone moan behind him when a loud crack came from above. Dean dived out of the way just in time as another piece of the blazing framework fell.

It was then that he spotted her, pinned underneath a large piece of corrugated metal that had been blown off in the explosion. He lifted it off of her, seeing that though she was unconscious, she was largely unhurt. While the impact of the metal had knocked her out, it had also shielded her from the majority of the blast.

Dean looked around, frantically searching for another means of escape. The flames by what used to be the door were now higher than his head, blocking it off as a means of exit. He noticed a nearby window, only a few pieces of flaming scrap surrounding it. Quickly, he dragged Amber over and cleared out the remaining shards of glass, kicking out the smoldering frame as well. He looked out the window, checking the ground below. A few broken pieces of glass glinted in the moonlight, but thankfully there were no flames on this side. Lifting Amber up, he passed her through the window as gently as he could, and she landed with a soft thud on the other side. Dean jumped out behind her, a burst of flames following him as more of the roof crashed down inside. Getting to his feet, he threw Amber over his shoulder and ran.

They were about 10 yards away when Dean heard a series of loud cracks. He hit the ground, shielding Amber with his body as projectiles from the collapsing warehouse battered them.

"Dean!" Unable to follow him in, Sam had waited outside the inferno, praying as flames lit up the sky. Having seen their escape, he ran to help them, pulling Dean to his feet.

"You have to carry her," Dean said, struggling to keep his balance. A jagged piece of metal stuck out of his right calf, and he grimaced in pain as he yanked it out. Sam bent to lift Amber up, her body limp in his arms, and they made their way back to the Impala – shadows long and flickering in the firelight.

Back at the car, Sam lay Amber down in the back seat. Dean got in with her, cradling her head in his lap. He looked her over and assessed her wounds – there was a large bump forming on the side of her head where the shifter had knocked her out and a small gash on her brow was oozing blood down her face. She was scraped up and bruised, but fortunately nothing appeared to be broken.

Her eyes fluttered open and she groaned as Sam lurched the car forward and turned around. The fire colored the sky orange behind them, glinting menacingly off of Danny's truck which he'd left parked behind the Impala. Amber looked up at Dean.

"Did we get it?" she asked, her voice weak and gravely.

"Oh yeah," Dean said, gently pushing away the blood-soaked hair that clung to her face. "We fried that son of a bitch."

She smiled and closed her eyes, letting herself fall back into oblivion.

As they neared the house, Amber's eyes shot open, a look of horrified realization on her face.

"Danny… Where's Danny?"

Dean caught Sam's eye in the rearview mirror and shook his head.

"Amber, I'm sorry… Danny didn't make it."

"What?!" Amber tried to sit up and Dean struggled to restrain her, gritting his teeth as she elbowed his injured leg.

"No!" She screamed, fighting against Dean's hold. "We have to go back for him! Please! Turn around… we have to… please…" She continued to struggle, Dean holding her tight until she wore herself out. By the time they pulled up in front of her house, she had quieted down and lay sobbing in Dean's lap. Sam got out and opened the door for them.

"Can you walk?" he asked gently, helping Amber out of the car. She nodded silently, steadying herself against the trunk for a moment before starting off for the door. Her head was spinning. Everything that had happened was flashing before her eyes. She had chased after the rugaru, striking it from behind as it was bent over Danny and sending it reeling. Getting it between her and the door, she had shot it square in the chest and watched it stumble backwards out the opening. Everything after that was a blur: the explosion, the flames… Danny… Rainbows danced in her vision as she felt the blood draining from her head. She vaguely heard someone calling her name as she hit the ground and passed out.

She woke some time later on the couch in her living room, the clock above the mantle reading just past midnight. The knot on her head ached something fierce, and there was a sharp sting emanating from just above her eyebrow. Touching it gingerly, she found someone had stitched a cut and bandaged her up while she was out. Looking across the room, she saw Sam sitting on the opposite couch, stitching up the gash in Dean's leg. The coffee table was littered with bloodstained towels, gauze and bandages, and the smell of alcohol hung in the air. She glanced over at her liquor cabinet and saw it had been raided. Seeing her move, Dean looked over and smiled through clenched teeth as Sam poked the needle through his flesh.

"Sleeping beauty awakes!" he said, taking another swig from the bottle of whiskey he had in his grip. Amber tried to sit up but immediately fell back, feeling like she might throw up. The motion made Sam look up from his work.

"You might want to take it easy there," he said, pulling the last stitch through and cutting the thread. "There's a good chance you have a concussion."

"No shit," Amber said dryly, slowly propping herself up so as not to bring back the nausea. "Can I have some water?" Sam nodded and got up, heading into the kitchen. Dean was staring at the bottle of whisky, as though hoping it would show him the right thing to say.

"Amber…" he began.

"Dean, what happened to Danny?" she sharply interrupted him. Dean took another swig from the bottle and looked at the floor, unable to meet her eyes.

"When I came in after you, I found him," he said finally. "He was… he was already gone. The son of a bitch had ripped his throat out." He looked up at her, his eyes pleading forgiveness. "Amber, I am so sorry. I never should have let you get involved in the first place. Your brother would still be alive and you would have stayed safe. But no. I made the same mistake I always make and I let you get hurt."

Amber was crying now, the quiet sobs shaking her frame. Sam walked back into the room and set the water down next to her, moving slowly through the tension in the air.

"Dean, I think we should…" he began, but Dean glared at him.

"Should what? Huh, Sammy? This is as much your fault as mine. You insisted on using her and this…" he said gesturing at Amber, his voice rising in anger, "This is what happens when we bring innocent people into what we do. They get hurt and they die!"

"Dean you know there was no way we could have known what was going to happen. We did the best that we…"

"The best we could?" Dean rose, despite his leg, facing Sam full on. "We let her brother _die_, Sam, and you think we did our best? How many people would you need to get killed to consider it a loss?"

"STOP IT!" Amber yelled. "Please just stop…" Dean sat back down, grabbing the whiskey, but Sam remained where he stood.

"Amber, we…" he started.

"Stop." She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes – her head felt like it was going to split open. "It was my fault that Danny died. If he hadn't shown up we would have killed the rugaru no problem."

"But…"

"It was!" Amber snapped, sitting upright. "I thought I could keep Danny in the dark about all of this – that it was my battle to fight alone. I was afraid he would just think I was crazy. If I had tried to convince him that the thing that killed Scarlett was also what had killed our parents…" She trailed off, choking, her mouth dry. She paused, taking a deep breath and a drink of water before continuing. "I was too young when our parents died to really understand what happened. But Danny… He just felt so helpless – like he was being punished. I thought if I tried to tell him that our parents were murdered by some freak-of-nature it would have broken him all over again." She shook her head, hot tears streaming down her face. "I was trying to protect him, and instead he got killed trying to protect me." A surge of tiredness washed over her, and she was suddenly exhausted. Dean moved to put a hand on her shoulder but she flinched away.

"Please…" she said quietly. "I just want to be alone."

She lay back down and faced into the couch, turning her back to the Winchesters. They said nothing, and a moment later she heard them walk out of the room, turning off the lights as they went. She was relieved not to hear them leave the house, though – even with the rugaru dead she still felt better knowing they were near. Amber lay there for a long while, listening to the gentle ticking of the clock, eventually letting it lull her into a deep sleep.

When Amber woke the next morning her head still throbbed, but at least the fogginess was gone. She turned over and saw that at some point in the night, Dean had come back to the room and slept on the other couch. The rest had done a great deal to calm her, and while she still felt an aching loss for her brother, the anger from yesterday had dissipated. She smiled, watching the rise and fall of Dean's chest as he slept. She could see the muscles tensed beneath his skin, like he was ready to spring into action at a moment's notice, but his face was peaceful. Seeing him like this, Amber had an urge to go over and smooth his hair, tucking him in like a mother would her child. Suddenly he frowned in his sleep and began to stir. His eyes opened and looked into Amber's, locking her into that clear hazel gaze.

"Good morning," she said softly. Dean grunted and eased himself into a sitting position. Aside from the leg and his head, he could tell he had a few bruised ribs as well. Standing up gingerly, he limped across the room and sat down on the couch beside Amber. He gently brushed a lock of hair that had fallen across her face, carefully avoiding her stitches.

"I'm sorry for being such a jackass last night."

Amber reached up to touch his face, lightly brushing the welt where the rugaru had hit him.

"It's ok," she said, cupping his cheek with her palm. He brought his hand up to cover hers, pressing it to him. They sat like that for a moment, letting their emotions silently express themselves through the contact.

They heard footsteps from the kitchen, and Sam appeared around the corner. For once they didn't spring apart, too sore from their ordeal to care or just move that quickly.

"Dean, could you help me with something outside for a minute?" Dean nodded and stood, following Sam out the front door.

"You know I'm not really in the mood for any heavy lifting right now, Sammy," Dean joked, once outside.

"I know," Sam said, turning to face him. "I just wanted to talk to you for a minute." Dean cocked an eyebrow at him.

"About what?" he asked, suspicious. "Sam, you've got a look on your face like a fourth grade girl with a secret."

"I uh… I'm going to take off for a little bit. Leave you two alone for a while. I feel like you both might need it."

"Uh huh. Need what exactly?"

Sam smiled. "Come on, Dean, I'm not an idiot. I know there's something going on between you and Amber."

"Oh yeah? How do you figure?" Dean said, getting defensive. "Come on, Sammy, I always hit on anything that moves. You know that."

"Honestly, Dean?" Sam laughed. "It was when you _stopped_ hitting on her that I knew something was up.

Dean glared at him for a moment.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

They smiled.

"I'll give you two hours," Sam said, walking to the Impala. "Then we need to hit the road."

"Two hours? Come on, Sammy, you know it doesn't take me that long!" Dean winked as Sam gave him the finger and climbed into the car.

"Two hours!" he called one last time as the engine rumbled into life and he rolled away.

Dean walked back inside to find that Amber was no longer in the living room. Following his ear, he walked into the kitchen to find her rummaging through the pantry. She turned when she heard him, her face changing when she saw he was alone.

"Where's Sam?"

Without responding, Dean closed the distance between them in two strides, his leg no more than a distant tingle in the back of his mind. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close, and kissed her passionately.

Amber instinctively relaxed her body into his, reveling in his touch. After an infinite moment, she pulled back. Silently, she took his hand and led him upstairs. Her pulse was racing as she pulled him into her room. Dean's hands traced their way down her hips, his thumbs hooking onto the waistband of her jeans, drawing her nearer. Amber buried her face in his chest, feeling the strong heartbeat beneath firm muscle. She wished for a moment that she could stay like this forever, sheltered in his embrace. After all that had happened, she felt broken and incomplete, but here in his arms she felt whole. Lifting her head, she kissed him lightly on the collarbone, her hands working their way up his back, taking in the broad, flat lines of muscle and the bumps of his spine. Carefully, she unbuttoned his shirt, kissing his chest as she exposed it. Pulling it back from his shoulders, she paused to trace her fingers over the various scars scattered across his body. Her hand ran over an odd raised burn mark on his left shoulder, realizing it was in the shape of a handprint.

"How did you get this?" Amber asked, fitting her hand on top of it. Dean looked down at his shoulder and smiled.

"That's a long story… Let's just say I was touched by an angel." Running his hands through her hair, he brought her head up to kiss her. He moved down her neck, his hands finding the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head in a swift motion. Amber fumbled with his belt buckle as he worked open the clasp of her bra. Their tasks completed, Dean lifted her up, wrapping her legs around him as he backed toward the bed. He sat down so that Amber was straddling him and began to kiss her chest. She gasped as his teeth closed lightly around her nipple, sending a shiver of pleasure down her spine as his hands worked at the fastening of her pants.

Amber pushed him back so that she lay on top of him, pressing her body into his. Trailing kisses down his chest, she breathed deeply – his intoxicating smell overwhelming her with desire. She wanted him – needed him – so badly, as though his touch was the only thing that could glue her shattered pieces back together. She brought her head up, staring deeply into those clear hazel eyes.

"Take me," she whispered.

Dean flipped her over, kissing her in earnest, his hands pinning hers down spread-eagled over the covers. She arched her back and pressed into him, the shared heat of their bodies glowing like embers between them. He released her, easing her jeans and underwear down past her thighs. Kneeling between her legs, Dean pulled a condom out of his back pocket, ripping the foil with his teeth. Amber smiled coyly as she undid his fly.

"You really are prepared for anything," she teased. He grinned, lowering himself onto her, kicking off his pants.

"Yeah, well… With this job you never know what you might run into." He let his mind relax as they passed the point of foreplay, and Amber let out a small cry as Dean entered her, crossing her legs behind him to hold him close.

"Amber…" Dean's voice was soft and husky in her ear. He took her gently at first, as though afraid to shatter the closeness that they shared. Steadily, their rhythm increased and he felt the fire of his passion surging through his blood, hot and fierce as the explosion at the warehouse, pushing him into a frenzy. Amber's nails raked his back as he let instinct overtake him. She moaned and pressed her hips harder, spurring him on even more. They writhed across the mattress, each one trying to hold even tighter as though to take refuge in the other's presence.

Amber felt as though her whole body was on fire, the dull pain from her wounds melting into a ferocious pleasure. She cried out as a wave of sensation hit her, magnifying with each thrust. With a final moan of ecstasy, Dean released himself into her and collapsed on her chest, panting. For a long moment, Amber just held him there, clutched to her breast as she gently stroked his hair. The tension between them of the past two days had evaporated, floating away like dust in the wind. The intense heat they had generated was fading as well, and Amber shivered as she felt the draft of cold autumn air come in through the cracks in her window. Dean moved now, shifting her to free the covers from beneath them. Once underneath the sheets, he gathered Amber into his arms, holding her close. They stayed like that for a long time, for a moment feeling like they were at peace.

Amber knew this couldn't last forever. Soon Sam would be back and they'd have to hit the road – off on a journey to fight some other monster. She tried to push the thought away and just appreciate the moment, but Dean's phone beeped, breaking the silence and her reverie. Dean released her from his embrace and reached down to get his phone from his jeans pocket.

"30 minute warning from Sam," he read. He sat on the edge of the bed, back facing toward her. Amber felt her throat tighten. How could she just go back to normal after they were gone with everything that had happened? It seemed impossible.

"Take me with you," she said suddenly.

His shoulders tensed.

"I can't do that."

"Dean, please, I can't stay here. There's nothing left for me."

"There's more for you here than there is on the road with me and Sam," he snapped. Amber was quiet. He turned, and seeing the hurt look on her face moved to put his arms around her. "Amber, I'm sorry, but it's true. Everything you just went through, that's what our lives are like every day. You'd have to be insane to do it. Hell, maybe we _are_ insane, but we do it because we have to. You have a home here where you're safe. You have the hardware store. Our lives… We have nothing. We live out of a car and crappy motels, paying with hacked credit cards and gambling money. We're basically hobos that hunt monsters."

Amber laughed despite the tears that were now trickling down her cheeks.

"I don't care though. Even if I have to sleep on the ground or shower in the sinks of public restrooms it's got to be better than this. Everything I love here has been destroyed."

"It's not just that, Amber," Dean said, "We're in danger all the time. I can't let you just throw yourself into that. Danny wouldn't want you to either."

The tears came faster; she knew it was true. Danny had lost his life trying to protect his little sister. Did she really want him to have died in vain? Deep down, she knew that Dean was right. As desperately as she wanted him to take her away, she had to stay here. The store was hers now: somebody had to keep the family business going. And trying to keep up with the Winchesters on the road… This ordeal had nearly torn her apart. She couldn't imagine having to face these horrors all the time. Dean and Sam had built up a lifetime of scar tissue against it, but her wounds were fresh and stinging. She pressed her cheek to his shoulder, and he ran a comforting hand through her hair.

"I wouldn't wish the life of a hunter on anyone," he said softly. "Especially not you. Come on, we should probably get dressed." He stood, and Amber lost her train of thought for a moment as she surveyed his figure. Screw two hours; she could use a solid week of this. He caught her eye and smiled.

"Hey now, show's over," he said, tossing her shirt at her. She pretended to turn away but snuck another peek as he pulled up his jeans. Amber sighed. _At least something good came out of all this,_ she thought.

Once they were dressed, they realized they were both starving and headed down to the kitchen. Amber showed Dean where the coffee was and set to work making scrambled eggs. Once the food was ready, they sat down and ate without talking, feeding that awkward silence that grows when you know you're going to have to say goodbye.

"Where will you go next?" Amber asked finally as the silence became oppressive.

"Not sure." Finished with their eggs, Dean stood and cleared the plates. "Sammy's probably been scouring the news though, looking for signs of the next creature we'll have to gank."

"And that's just how you do it? Constantly jumping from one job to the next?"

"Basically," Dean said, leaning against the counter as he drained the rest of his coffee. "Sometimes we'll get a break for a couple days, if we're lucky a couple weeks, but it's never long before something else shows up that we have to fight."

Amber stood and walked over to him. "Does it ever end?" she asked. "Will you ever be finished saving the world?"

"Not until we die," he said, smiling grimly, "And maybe not even then." She put her arms around him, holding him close.

"Please try not to," she said, her voice wavering. "For me. Please don't die." She thought she heard him mutter "again" before he kissed her deeply. His soft, full lips pressed on to hers, briefly closing her off from the rest of the world. If she could just bottle that feeling – keep a souvenir of him for after he left – then maybe everything would be ok. He broke off suddenly.

"I promise to try not to die," he said, tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb, "Only if you promise to do the same." Amber nodded and, pulling him back toward her, sealed her pledge with another kiss.

Their private sanctuary of each other's company ended as they heard the front door open and Sam walked in.

"Hey guys, I'm back!" he shouted, a little too loudly. Dean made a face and, kissing Amber on the forehead, went to greet him. She hung back in the kitchen for a moment, trying to lock every detail of Dean into her memory. If she was going to have to face life here in the aftermath of tragedy, it would help to have something solid in her mind to fall back on. The memory stored, she went to follow Dean into the living room.

"Hey Amber," Sam said, giving her a knowing smile. She felt her cheeks begin to redden a bit, but quickly shook it off.

"So did you figure out where you'll be heading next?" she asked, trying to act casual.

"Yeah, I was just telling Dean there have been strange reports and ghost sightings in an old housing complex in Colorado. No deaths yet, but a couple victims have gone into unexplained comas. Sounds like something we should look into."

"Ghosts, huh?" Amber's curiosity was peaked. "How do you deal with those?"

"Rock salt shotgun rounds to hold 'em off, then find the body and salt and burn the bones," Dean said simply, making Amber raise her eyebrows.

"Wow…" she said, shaking her head. "Any chance there's an instruction booklet to all this you can leave with me?"

Sam chuckled. "I'll write down some books and websites for you to check out. The information's not always easy to find, but it's out there." He looked around and grabbed a pen and paper from the coffee table.

"Whoa now," Dean gave her a stern look. "If you run into something strange, you call us. Don't just go chasing after it willy nilly."

"Fine. But I'd probably need your phone number for that, wouldn't I?"

Dean paused. "Right…" He grabbed the pen and paper from Sam and wrote down their numbers at the top. "This is my cell and this is Sam's. If you can't get ahold of one of us, try the other. Hopefully someone will answer," he said, handing the paper back to Sam. Amber nodded, swallowing back the tight feeling in her throat at the thought of them not being able to answer her call.

"One more thing," she said. "The police. Surely there's going to be an investigation. What do I tell them about how Danny died?" She crossed her arms in front of her, hoping to hide that she was clenching her fists to keep from crying.

"I've taken care of that, actually," Sam said as he finished up the list and handed it to her. "We have a friend who's a Louisiana state trooper. We helped him with a little shape-shifter problem a couple years back. I filled him in on what happened and he's going to clear it up best he can so that you don't have to go through too much. Even so, the police probably will need to come by in the next couple days to ask some questions. All you need to tell them though is that Danny had caught on to some hooligans buying stuff to make explosives from the store, and he followed them to the warehouse and must have gotten caught in the blast."

Reading her emotions, Dean stepped in and put a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Hey, I know this will be tough to deal with, but you'll make it through," he said, giving her a heartfelt smile. She took a deep breath.

"Ok," she said, steeling herself. "Do you guys need anything before you head out?"

"No, I think we're good," Sam said, doing a final sweep of the room. Amber furrowed her brow and a twinge on her forehead suddenly reminded her of one last thing.

"Oh! When can I take these stitches out?"

Sam moved closer to inspect them. "Hmm… I'd give it four or five more days maybe. Just make sure you keep it clean in the meantime. It'll probably leave a scar though. Sorry about that…"

"It's ok. Thanks," she said, and gave him a tight hug. This close, she couldn't even see past his shoulder. It felt like hugging a tree trunk. She smiled and let him go, turning back to Dean.

"I'll miss you guys."

Dean laughed. "You hear that, Sammy? Usually people can't wait for us to leave town!" Amber narrowed her eyes at him and moved to punch him lightly on the shoulder, but he dodged and pulled her into a hug.

"You stay out of trouble," he said, ruffling her hair as he released her.

"Well if I find some, at least I know who to call!" She forced a smile, wishing so badly that they didn't have to go. "I guess this is goodbye then."

"Yeah. Good luck with everything," Sam said. "I'm sure you'll be able to manage." Amber nodded in thanks, crossing her arms again to hide her struggle to keep a straight face as she walked them to the door and saw them out. Sharing one last soulful look with Dean, she let those clear hazel eyes burn themselves into her memory as she breathed in that scent of Old Spice and leather for what might be the last time.

The old doors creaked as they got into the Impala. Amber managed to hold it together until the engine roared into life, heralding the tears that began to stream down her face. With a final wave they drove off, onto their next job – the next town they'd have to save. She wondered briefly if it was always hard for them to say goodbye, or if they'd done it so much that they were used to it. Maybe it never got easier, but they always stayed strong enough to carry the weight.

Closing the door, she walked back into the living room and just stood there for a long time, not sure what to do. Finally, drying her eyes, she grabbed the list of books that Sam had left, opened up her computer, and got to work learning the truth.

They drove in silence for a long time before Dean finally spoke up.

"She wanted to come with us," he said.

"Can you blame her, Dean?" Sam shook his head. "The poor girl just lost the only remaining family she had. She's got nothing left! If it weren't for the fact that we killed the monster that did that to her, we probably would have had to lock her up to keep her from diving into a hunter's life. Even then…" Sam trailed off, suddenly regretting the list of resources he had left for Amber. "Still, if there's one thing we can agree on it's that this job is a death wish. Telling her to stay out of it is the right thing to do."

Dean was silent, brow furrowed and eyes locked on the road.

"Come on, man, you can't blame yourself for what happened. Everything would have worked out fine if her brother hadn't shown up, and there was no way of knowing he'd…"

"It's not that," Dean said gruffly.

Sam looked at him, confused. "What then?"

"She didn't ask."

"Ask what?"

"For me to stop hunting. She didn't ask me to stay."

Sam stared at his brother, trying to read what he was feeling from the look on his face.

"Did you want to?"

"I don't know, Sammy. Do we even have a choice? This is our job, and thankless and unappreciated as it is, we have to do it. We can't just quit."

Sam was quiet for a moment. "Dean, if anyone could have understood that, I feel like it was her. Maybe that's why she didn't ask."

Dean didn't respond, his knuckles gripped tight around the steering wheel. Part of him wanted to turn the car around and go back, but he knew he couldn't. His work was never done. Not as long as someone still needed saving.

His phone beeped, breaking his focus. Pulling it out of his pocket, he saw he had a text from Amber.

_Thank you,_ it said. _For everthing. _

Dean smiled a little. Maybe this job wasn't entirely thankless. A bit of his faith restored, he let his thoughts dissolve into the comforting rumble of the Impala's engine as he drove down the darkening road.


End file.
